In Memory of Ryo Fukui

Jazz, to me and to countless others, is the truest form of musical expression and maybe even of artistic expression in general. The genre demands nearly every facet of the creative mind to be ‘perfect’. A strong knowledge of the tools of creation, the ability to improvise and welcome the unexpected, and an unwavering trust in the power of cooperation are all integral to the process. When all of these things align, there is very little that can describe what manifests aside from Joy.

One of the finest exemplars of the genre I’ve had the honor of listening to has to be Japan’s Ryo Fukui (福居良). The late pianist was nothing short of genius, having started to play piano in 1970 at 22 and releasing his first album “Scenery” only 6 years later. 

In that time, he was able to get a firm grip on the tenets of classical jazz as well as develop a signature sound that set him apart from both his fellow countrymen as well as the legendary American canon. While the traditional American style is known for its brassy warmth, Fukui’s sound is fantastically bright and crisp though never lacking in fullness or depth. Listen to the title track for “Mellow Dream” to get a sense of that unmistakable clarity.

His final work, “A Letter from Slow Boat”, was released just months before his death in March of 2016. The album is assembled from a collection of live recordings from his stay at the Sapporo jazz club, Slow Boat. Each song - his version of “Nobody Knows the Trouble I’ve Seen” comes to mind first -  precisely describes a man in the twilight of his life, the notes softer and longer, the tone more somber but still filled with the same obvious joy present through his whole career. It’s that selfsame Joy that Fukui leaves behind as his legacy, and we are all the better for having listened.